


Kageyama's Grumpy Face

by tinzelda



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, Hinata in cute pajamas, KageHina - Freeform, M/M, Mostly Fluff, POV Kageyama Tobio, warning for mild injury but there's basically no angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: When Hinata is prevented from playing for a little while, Kageyama realizes how much he has come to depend on him.





	Kageyama's Grumpy Face

Kageyama lifts his eyes from his equation to glare at Hinata, who is sketching attack diagrams on the margins of his paper. Though his drawings are a mess—the courts all lopsided instead of nice, tidy rectangles—Kageyama is still curious about his ideas.

But if they don’t pass their math tests, they won’t be allowed to play, so Kageyama refuses to let Hinata distract him.

“Get back to work.”

Startled, Hinata drops his pencil, then glares right back at Kageyama. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

Hinata grins when he says it though, so Kageyama decides to ignore him. He’s able to solve three more equations before Hinata interrupts.

“I’m hungry.”

Kageyama refuses to raise his eyes from his notebook.

“Don’t you offer your friends something to eat when they come over?”

Kageyama looks up, surprised.

“What?” Hinata asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Are we friends?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata stares, then tilts his head sideways. “Maybe we’re not.”

He ducks his head and picks up his pencil. A frown wrinkles his brow. He writes down a few numbers, then says, in that annoying, pouty way he has, “Why do you always look so grumpy?”

Kageyama sighs.

After throwing down his pencil, he gets up, plods out of the room, and clomps down the stairs. There’s nothing in the kitchen cabinets that looks promising, so he grabs a couple of bananas, takes them upstairs, and plunks them on the table in front of Hinata. He looks up with a mischievous smile and grabs one.

“Get back to work,” Kageyama says as he crosses his legs to sit on the rug.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Hinata says, his cheek bulging with his first, huge bite. But he finally starts to work, with a playful grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.

*****

They’re down 19–20. Daichi dribbles the ball before serving. Kageyama catches Hinata’s eye, flashes the signal, and gets a nod and a cocky grin in return. They’ll try one of their quicks to even up the score.

It couldn’t have gone better even if they’d been able to dictate every play. The other team’s #16 sends the ball back in a nice, slow, high arc. He calls out an apology for handing Kurasano the ball like that. It descends so slowly, Kageyama can direct it to Hinata right away.

Hinata’s hand makes contact, and the ball slams down right on the baseline.

The blockers are way too slow—Hinata is already coming down when then jump. He lands off balance, ending up on his hands and knees, but his expression is triumphant when he looks up at Kageyama.

Everything goes in slow motion then. Kageyama can see #9’s sneakers, way too close to Hinata’s head. One heel hits his ear. He’s annoyed more than hurt, but it’s too late for him to move. #9’s feet touch down with an echoing thud, barely missing Hinata’s splayed hands on the floorboards.

The other blocker, #4, clearly flustered by Hinata’s speed, doesn’t pay attention to his own movements. He lurches into #9, who tips backward, like a tall tree felled by an ax. His arm tangles in the net, slowing his trajectory for a split second, but before Kageyama can call out a warning, he comes down on Hinata’s back, crushing him to the floor.

There’s a sickening snap.

The sound makes a heavy, wet mass form low in Kageyama’s belly. He’s across the floor in two paces, shoves #9 off, and reaches out to Hinata. He stops himself just in time, not wanting to touch anything that hurts.

Hinata rolls over and sits up on his own, cradling his left arm against his ribs. The bone must be broken. That sound . . . .

Kageyama looks at Hinata’s arm, and the unnatural angle of it makes that soggy lump in his stomach grow even heavier. Tears run down Hinata’s face, and Kageyama knows right away that it’s not the pain that’s making him cry, though it must hurt like hell.

No, Hinata’s already realized that this will keep him off the court.

For weeks.

Time speeds up again. Sugawara and Daichi rush forward and half-carry Hinata away. Kageyama remains frozen in place, watching as Hinata is whisked out of the gymnasium. There is talk of taking him to the hospital, but Kageyama hears only snatches of the conversation until Daichi returns to the court.

“Are you all right?” Daichi asks.

“Of course,” Kageyama answers. But Daichi’s voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away.

“I can take over,” Sugawara says, peering over Daichi’s shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit.”

Kageyama scowls rather than responding. Sugawara grins and returns to his position. Narita jogs into Hinata’s place, looking pale, and the game continues as if nothing had happened.

Something seems to be clogging Kageyama’s ears. The banter of both teams and the shouts of the few spectators seem too quiet, too distant. He sticks a finger in his right ear and wiggles it, but it doesn’t help.

“Kageyama!”

He recovers just in time to prevent the ball from hitting the floor, but it veers off randomly.

“Don’t mind!” Daichi calls from behind him.

Nishinoya rescues him, sending the ball safely over the net, but when it’s returned, Kageyama flubs again, tossing too close to the net, so that #9 barely has to touch it to send it to the floor, scoring against Kurasano.

Kageyama shakes his head to clear it. He focuses better after that, but when Tanaka gets a powerful spike, the smack of it against the floor makes Kageyama cringe, so on edge that every stimulus sparks down his spine and makes him twitch.

Narita fumbles a quick, and Kageyama bites his tongue to keep from yelling. Hinata could have done it. He would have gotten that toss easily and scored. When Narita messes up again—hitting right into a block so the ball bounces back, almost hitting him in the face, then falls to the floor—Kageyama spits out a few angry syllables before he shuts himself up. Narita’s eyes widen. Then he frowns, probably at being spoken to by a first year.

Kageyama can’t apologize, choked by dread. It’s Kageyama’s fault for getting too reliant on Hinata’s quirks—his ridiculous jumps and freakish speed. Without Hinata to take his grousing, without Hinata to face him down and immediately yell back, without Hinata to be _there_ , right there next to him—without Hinata’s hand to toss to . . . they would all start to hate him. 

He’d become the King of the Court, all over again.

*****

Practice seems longer than usual. As soon as it’s over, Kageyama runs home. Relieved that his father isn’t home from work yet, Kageyama grabs his bicycle and heads for Hinata’s house. He didn’t come to school, and no one seemed to know exactly what happened after he left the gym the night before.

A tiny girl answers the door. It’s obvious that she’s Hinata’s sister. She looks just like him, but shorter. There’s a green ribbon in her hair. It’s probably there to keep it away from her face and tidy, but it doesn’t work. Bits of orange stick up all over her head like the feathers of a disgruntled chick.

She stares at him without speaking. Kageyama opens him mouth to introduce himself, but a voice from another room calls out, “Who is it?”

“A grouchy boy,” the girl replied.

A feminine laugh rings out, and a woman appears. She has her reddish-brown hair tied up in a bun, and she’s drying her hands on a dish towel. 

“You must be a friend of Shoyo’s from school,” she says with a smile.

Kageyama nods, then pushes himself to be polite. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Natsu? Will you show him upstairs, please? I’m busy with the dishes.” 

Once her mother returns to the kitchen, the little girl gives an exaggerated sigh, but she leads Kageyama to the staircase. Halfway up, she stops and turns around, fists on her hips.

“You know Shoyo from school?”

Kageyama nods. “I’m in volleyball club.”

She stares at him for a long while. “Why is your face so grumpy?”

“It’s not.”

“It is!”

Her expression is intensely determined. It makes her look even more like her brother. He pictures Hinata with a green ribbon in his hair.

“That’s better,” the girl says.

“What’s better?”

“Your face. You don’t look so grumpy now.”

She turns and stomps the rest of the way up the stairs.

Hinata is sprawled on his back in the bed, half-covered by a bright blue duvet and snoring lightly. Both arms are in casts. On the right side, his cast starts just below the elbow, but the one on the left disappears into the sleeve of his oversized white T-shirt. It must go up almost to his shoulder.

Natsu marches straight up to the bed and reaches out.

“Don’t—” Kageyama says.

But she was already shaking Hinata’s shoulder.

“Wha—?” Hinata cracks one eye open. “Natsu. Go away. Let me sleep.”

“Your friend is here.”

“My friend?”

Hinata lift his head off the pillow and looks around. When he sees Kageyama, his eyes widen almost comically.

“What are you doing here?” Hinata mutters. “I must be having a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare!” Kageyama hisses back. “See? You’re grumpy!” Natsu says. “Your face looks so grumpy!”

“Aw, don’t worry. He always looks like that.” Hinata sounds grumpy himself, but his face breaks into a smile.

He sits up in bed, pushing off the covers. His pajama pants are covered with pictures of little strips of bacon, fried eggs, and slices of toast, all with kawaii smiley faces.

“Kageyama, what are you doing here?”

“I just—” Kageyama’s face burns. “I came to see—”

Hinata’s eyes get big again. “You came to check on me. You _are_ my friend.”

Kageyama can’t tell if Hinata’s awed tone of voice is genuine. Maybe he’s mocking Kageyama for coming to visit.

There’s a water bottle on the shelf next to Hinata’s bed, and he reaches for it. But the cast makes him clumsy, and he knocks the bottle to the floor. Kageyama reaches for it, his cheeks still warm, and Hinata mumbles his thanks before taking several large gulps.

“I have to leave soon. I was supposed to go home right after practice, and it took forever to ride my bike here,” Kageyama explains. “But how long will it be before you can play again?”

It’s the wrong thing to ask. Reminded of his injuries, Hinata looks down at his hands mournfully. When he finally speaks, it’s in an urgent whisper.

“What if I can’t play anymore?”

“What?” Kageyama takes a step closer to the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“My arms.”

Hinata waves his hands in circles, inches from Kageyama’s face. Kageyama almost shoves them away, but being rough might hurt Hinata, so he stops.

“What if I can’t play? What if I can’t hit the ball anymore? What if I—if I try for _zoom_ and instead get—” He lets out a loud breath, like the air rushing out of a balloon. When his lungs are empty, he falls back onto his pillows, as if exhausted.

After only a split second, his eyes spring open.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he says in a hissing whisper. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!”

Kageyama shakes his head. He doesn’t feel any pity. If Hinata didn’t have something to slow him down, no one would be able to keep up.

“You’ll be fine,” Kageyama says.

“What if I’m not?”

“You will be.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—”

Kageyama was about to say _Because I need you_. But he couldn’t say that. Not out loud.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says instead. “You broke a couple bones. That’s not going to—”

Hinata sits bolt upright. “Three! I broke three bones. Two in my left arm and one in my—”

“So what? Bones heal. You’ll be fine.”

After staring for several heartbeats, Hinata sighs and collapses onto his pillows again.

“You know what I used to see when I look through the net at guys like that? A wall. A big, tall wall. So tall, I thought I’d never get over it, no matter how high I can jump. With you, I can do it. I can get past that wall. At least I thought I could. But yesterday, the wall came down. And it fell right on top of me.”

It makes Kageyama picture it: #9 coming down too close, bumping Hinata’s ear, almost crushing his hands, them falling on him. That sickening _crack_. It makes Kageyama angry. He’s not angry with Hinata, but he’s the only person here.

“I told you,” Kageyama says. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a wall, it was just a dumb, clumsy kid. But the way you’re talking—like you can’t beat him. Like you can’t beat that team—”

Hinata throws off the bedclothes and jumps to the floor. “That’s not what I said!”

“You’re making excuses. I don’t care if you broke your arms or your legs or your head. You’re coming back, and we’re going to win.”

Hinata looks furious. Even with the baggy T-shirt he wears, his deep heaving breaths are obvious. He strides across the floor until he’s face to face with Kageyama, his eyes narrowed into slits. 

“You—” Hinata clutches clumsily at the lapels of Kageyama’s uniform jacket. “How can you—?”

Kageyama stays quiet. He still feels angry, but Hinata’s expression is so fierce, he wonders how much it would hurt to be punched with a fist encased in hard plaster.

Hinata gives Kageyama a single hard shake, then lets out a hiss of pain. “These stupid casts! They won’t even let me teach you a lesson.”

He scowls, staring at where his fingers grip the dark fabric. Kageyama can almost see the gears turning in his head. What’s he trying to figure out?

Several moments tick by before Hinata raises his eyes to meet Kageyama’s, his jaw set in determination. Then he pushes up on his toes, lifts his chin, and mashes their lips together.

Kageyama’s brain short-circuits.

It’s not even a kiss, really. Just the pressure of Hinata’s mouth against his, so forceful he can feel Hinata’s teeth behind the flesh. It’s shocking and frightening and kind of gross. And kind of wonderful.

Hinata pulls away, wide-eyed. His mouth hangs open, clearly terrified of what he’s done. He releases Kageyama’s jacket and takes one stumbling step backwards. Kageyama grabs him, drags him close again, and takes his jaw in both hands.

This kiss is slower. Softer.

Kageyama thinks, _What am I doing?_

Hinata makes a small noise—something like a hum, but also like a grunt—and when Kageyama pulls away, Hinata’s eyes are wider than Kageyama has ever seen them. They stare at each other until Hinata’s awed expression splits into sunshine. The biggest grin yet. Kageyama can’t help but return it.

And just like that, everything returns to normal. Kageyama bends down to dig in his bag, wondering why he doesn’t feel weird. He finds the papers he was looking for and hands them to Hinata. “I brought you your math homework. I’ll bring you more tomorrow after practice.”

“What?” Hinata takes the packet of homework but shakes his head. “No way. I’m coming to school.”

“Shouldn’t you rest? Didn’t the doctor—?”

“I rested today! All day, and I’m going crazy.”

“Okay,” Kageyama says. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Kageyama goes downstairs, Hinata’s sister is perched on the bottom step, like she’s waiting for him.

“What’s wrong with your face now?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling,” the girl explains. “It’s creepy.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hinata's kawaii breakfast pajamas are a real thing. They're made for kids a lot smaller - which I swear isn't a joke about his height! I just wanted something painfully cute for his PJs, and a friend found these for me:
> 
> https://www.designlifekids.com/products/kawaii-breakfast-pajama-set?variant=9023468339236&utm_campaign=gs-campaign-2018-05-31&utm_source=google&utm_medium=shopping_usc&gclid=Cj0KCQjwyoHlBRCNARIsAFjKJ6Boh71W-bP0kl45NgFOSHJdg_Kz-XUEzoe4EW1q0Tbe6r8WIDLAUUgaAgGqEALw_wcB


End file.
